


a family and a home

by Keira_63



Series: it's not the most conventional life, but that's why i love it [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton is Darcy Lewis' Uncle, Clint Barton's Farm, Darcy Lewis is Clint Barton's Niece, F/M, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, Natasha gets a family, POV Clint Barton, POV Darcy Lewis, POV Natasha Romanov, Pre-Avengers (2012), The Clintasha doesn't begin until chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keira_63/pseuds/Keira_63
Summary: After a year with SHIELD, Natasha thought she had an excellent handle on who Clint Barton was. But there was one interesting secret to figure out … and she had to admit she hadn’t seen it coming.





	1. Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel comics or any of their characters.

By the time Natasha had been with SHIELD for one year, she thought she had an excellent handle on who Clint Barton was.

Missions and close quarters were very educational, after all. And you couldn’t spend a year’s worth of missions, often in cramped quarters for weeks at a time, without becoming incredibly close or starting to hate each other.

And Natasha did not hate Clint.

 

Clint owned an apartment building with an odd collection of tenants – including a little old lady who Natasha knew used to be one of the CIA’s best agents, but who now spent most of her time baking cakes for her neighbours and pressing plates of pryaniki on Natasha every time she visited.

He could sleep almost silently on missions, but when he was off the clock his snoring was like a foghorn. And if he hadn’t had any coffee, there was about a sixty-five percent chance he would trip on his way to the bathroom in the morning.

He couldn’t pass a dog without wanting to pet it, even in the middle of a mission … even when being shot at by a pair of mobsters.

(how he’d stayed alive so long was sometimes a genuine mystery to Natasha).

And for someone whose aim was so true, and who was extremely skilled as a spy and assassin, when he was off the clock, Clint could barely get through one day without acquiring a new collection of bumps and bruises, or entangling himself in some minor disaster.

 

In the Red Room, she was fairly sure he would never have been tolerated, despite his skills. But Natasha, freer than she had ever been before (despite the close watch SHIELD attempted to keep on her), found his behaviour strangely endearing.

That didn’t stop her from flipping him every time he tried to surprise her … because only Clint would think it was a good idea to drop out of the vents onto an ex-Red Room assassin, and then simply smile through his bloody nose when she hit him.

“I’ll catch you off guard one day,” he promised with a good-natured but determined grin that made her think he might actually manage it.

There was something about Clint. He was the most down-to-earth person she had never known, somehow managing to live a relatively normal life when he wasn’t on missions, and yet when he was working he more than earned his title of world’s greatest marksman.

Neither of them were ever really off-duty, but Clint separated his work and personal life in a way few in their position managed. Natasha was a little envious of him, sometimes. She didn’t think she’d ever manage to be like that.

 

* * *

 

A year had not made Natasha any less suspicious of SHIELD.

She rather admired Director Fury, but she certainly didn’t trust him. She truly liked Phil Coulson, but she never forgot that his loyalty was first and foremost to SHIELD.

But Clint Barton was … different, somehow.

He wasn’t one for protocol. He didn’t always make the choice he was ordered to (Natasha was living proof of that).

He wasn’t scared of her.

Oh, she was sure he was still wary at times, but he hid it far better than anyone else. And he never showed fear around her – he laughed when she beat him bloody in training, he made her watch Dog Cops with him when he thought she was lingering too much on her past, and he listened to details of her time in the Red Room without ever looking at her as if he was disgusted or fearful.

Clint was the first person who truly seemed to accept who she was, and what she had done, and like her anyway.

 

And yet, despite what he had done for her, and what he meant to her, she couldn’t help but pry into his life in ways she was fairly sure she had no earned.

Information gathering, searching for weak spots. It was what she was trained for, what she had spent years doing.

It was second nature, whether she was faced with ally or enemy, friend or foe.

Even Clint, who in a short time had become so important to her, was not immune.

She found out his secrets eventually – embarrassing, irrelevant and interesting.

Every secret but one.

She didn’t know what it was, only that it existed.

Clint was skilled at concealing his secrets in general, but this one …

This one was tricky.

 

All she knew was that he disappeared, every few weeks, for a couple of days.

He was off the grid then, not even answering Natasha’s texts.

She thought Coulson knew, and probably Fury too. They wouldn’t talk, though, and she wasn’t about to attempt anything drastic with them. That was far too obvious a move for her to try.

In the end she settled on the mundane idea of simply following Clint on one of his trips.

… or at least she tried to follow him.

 

It turned out that Clint was extremely good at losing a tail.

Natasha was fairly sure that he didn’t know it was her that had been following him during the last few trips he made, but he was aware someone was and had taken appropriate measures to ensure he always escaped them.

Part of her was ridiculously happy at the idea that Clint could avoid her tracking him. The other part was just irritated.

Intel was important, but Natasha also admitted she was a bit of a busybody at times and she really just wanted to know things.

Still, she persevered. Natasha had survived the Red Room. Finding out where Clint spent a large portion of his down-time would be child’s play.

 

* * *

 

_Four months later_

 

Natasha was hiding in a tree.

She’d ditched her car far enough away that it couldn’t be seen, cursing the fact that the place Clint had apparently been visiting was a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

But even having to walk a few miles in the blazing sun, tracking the route Clint’s truck had taken, couldn’t dampen her mood.

It had taken months, but she had finally succeeded in following Clint to his destination.

If only she could work out exactly _why_ he was at a farmhouse in Missouri.

Which brought her to the tree she had chosen as her perch as she tried to see exactly who or what was inside the farmhouse.

 

There had been movement inside, but while Natasha had been enhanced by the Red Room’s version of Captain America’s serum, even she couldn’t make out more than quick glimpses and blurry figures.

So she waited. She could be patient.

 

She was rewarded an hour later, when the farmhouse door opened and two figures came outside.

One was Clint. The other was a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old.

“There’s not much point in this, uncle Clint,” the girl sighed, “I’ve tried practicing and I’m really not a very good shot – I nearly killed three different squirrels two days ago in the space of twenty minutes.”

Clint laughed, “practice makes perfect, Darcy.”

“Or dead squirrels,” the girl muttered, though she took the bow Clint offered her.

 

Natasha watched them closely. So this was Clint’s secret, a family hidden off the grid. She couldn’t blame him for wanting them away from SHIELD’s radar – Clint, under his codename Hawkeye, was well-known around the world and a teenage niece could be a potentially easy target for any enemy looking for leverage.

She recalled a small note in Clint’s file which mentioned his brother Barney, who had worked undercover for the FBI until he had, for reasons not listed, defected to various other organisations of a more villainous sort. He was currently presumed dead, which in Natasha’s experience meant he was probably lying low for the moment.

Barney was, as far as she knew, Clint’s only sibling, and therefore the likely father of Darcy. Another reason for keeping her away from anyone who could identify her.

Barney Barton seemed like bad news. His associates were probably worse.

 

Natasha spent two hours watching as Clint and Darcy practiced their archery.

Clint hit the bullseye every time, as expected. His niece, on the other hand, was as bad as she had professed to be. No squirrels were harmed, thankfully, but that was probably simply because they clearly avoided the area.

When, at last, Darcy hit the edge of the target, she whooped as if she’d hit the centre on her first try and Clint spun her around as he congratulated her.

Natasha didn’t ever remember laughing when she was younger like the girl Clint swung around was.

All she remembered was the Red Room.

Normally, she refused to let it bother her, but every now and then something made her wish her childhood had been … gentler, if only for a while.

It was entirely possible that Darcy and her mother would have been fine without Clint, and she didn’t know enough about the situation to give any real assessment. Nevertheless, Natasha felt fiercely proud of Clint for caring, and for making the effort to be there for his niece.

She was starting to see how he could remain so grounded.

 

Her gaze turned towards the doorway when a woman stepped out onto the porch. She looked like Darcy, twenty years in the future, and was clearly the girl’s mother.

She called them in for dinner, and Natasha took advantage of their entry back into the house to drop quickly out of the tree and settle into a new hiding place in a group of bushes.

She’d have to leave soon, to get back to her car and find somewhere to stay overnight before she headed back to New York. But she thought it was best to wait a few minutes, just to be sure they were all inside for good before she snuck away.

 

She didn’t even notice the faint footsteps behind her.

Later, that would be the part of the day she was most embarrassed about. In their line of work a bit of stalking and a desire to know everyone’s secrets was normal. Someone managing to sneak up on _the_ Black Widow, though … that was just humiliating.

“It’s going to rain soon, Nat – do you want to come in for a bit?”

She lashed out with her knife before she even thought about who was behind her.

Clint ducked out of the way, and when she looked at him he didn’t seem annoyed, only a little sheepish for having startled her.

 

She looked closely at him and realised he didn’t seem at all surprised that she was there.

“You knew I was following you all along,” she said, almost accusingly.

Natasha rarely felt foolish, but now she realised she had done what she imagined many others had. She had been momentarily taken in by Clint’s casual, easy demeanour, forgetting exactly what lurked beneath.

Natasha was one of the best, but so was Clint, and she had underestimated him.

He shrugged, “you would have found me here eventually, or I would have told you about it. Might as well get it over with now.”

“You’d trust me with your family?” she asked incredulously, “you’ve only known me a little over a year. You were supposed to kill me the first time we met. And I … I was supposed to kill you.”

It was the first time she had ever admitted out loud what she was sure he had already suspected. She had never attempted to follow the orders she had been given to dispose of the man who had been tracking her, but they both knew she probably could have managed it, if she had wanted to.

“I like to think I’m a good judge of character,” Clint replied, “and you totally like me too much now to kill me.”

He winked at her and Natasha couldn’t help but smile.

 

Still, though, she was concerned.

“Our work,” she reminded him, “doesn’t allow for much certainty.”

She imagined he knew what she was trying to say. They were partners right now, SHIELD’s Strike Team Delta, but who knew what would happen in the future … whether one day they’d have to face each other as foes, not allies.

The thought … upset her.

She’d generally worked alone in the Red Room, and had never cared about a partner like she cared about Clint.

 

Clint’s expression hardened, “work is work,” he agreed, “but this,” he gestured to the farmhouse, “this is different. We’re partners, Nat, and I hope that never changes … but if it does, if the world screws us over, then Darcy is off limits.”

Natasha nodded seriously. It seemed like a solemn moment after all. Promises and vows rarely meant much to people like them, but this one …

She thought she might actually honour this one.

 

Clint turned cheerful again, “so are you coming in? Beth – that’s Darcy’s mom – always cooks too much so there’s plenty to eat.”

Natasha just shook her head.

It was crazy enough of Clint to trust her with the knowledge of his niece … but to actually invite her to meet the girl.

She thought he must be completely mad.

Natasha couldn’t sleep without at least two knives under her pillow, and even then she had nightmares more nights than not. She had been known to throw heavy objects at anyone who entered her personal space (Clint being the sole exception) and none of the SHIELD trainees ever looked her in the eyes. She was haunted by the innocent lives she had taken and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to enter a room without first working out every possible exit.

Natasha was a spy and an assassin. She was exceedingly good at what she did.

She was not, however, someone you introduced to an innocent teenager.

 

Clint didn’t press. He knew her well enough to see that she wasn’t going to change her mind, not today at least.

“Some other time then,” he said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently.

“Perhaps,” she answered non-committedly.

She had red in her ledger. She shouldn’t taint Clint’s family.

But there was something enticing about the thought of being part of a family, of having something she had only ever observed and never experienced herself.

 

For now, though, she would leave.

Natasha murmured a quick goodbye and strode off in the direction of the road that would lead her back to her car.

She briefly noticed the figure standing at the kitchen window watching her curiously. She tried to ignore it when Clint’s face fell ever so slightly.

She ignored the desire, deep inside her heart, to take Clint up on his offer.

And she hoped that maybe one day she’d be brave enough to stay.


	2. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - this summer has been a lot busier than I expected.

_September 2007_

 

Darcy and Natasha sat across from each other, completely silent.

Clint felt himself getting steadily more nervous as time passed and neither one of them spoke.

He wanted to say something, but he felt like the two of them were considering each other, and wouldn’t much appreciate an interruption.

It had taken him five months to convince Natasha to come to the farm with him and meet Darcy properly, and he really, _really_ wanted it to go well.

Now, the two of them were staring calmly at each other and Clint was practically vibrating.

Beth, who was sitting next to him, rolled her eyes. She stood up, grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the door, “come on, Clint, the car’s been playing up and I need you to take a look at it.”

 

Clint let her lead him away. He knew full well that Beth had been fixing her own car since she was a teenager and definitely needed no help whatsoever from him. But he appreciated her attempt at a distraction.

“They’ll be fine,” she continued, as if she hadn’t left her only child alone with a world-class assassin, “just give them some time alone.”

Clint sighed, “I explained a bit more about my job and Nat’s past to her. Still, I’m not sure if she’s ready to be confronted with the reality of what I do … I don’t want her to think badly of me.”

Beth snorted, “it would take something a lot worse than this for Darcy to think badly of you. After all, who else who knows her will be dumb enough to let her near a crossbow?”

“She’s getting better,” Clint insisted, feeling like his teaching methods were under fire, “and she only grazed my arm that one time.”

“Well it’s your head,” Beth shrugged, “now come and hold some tools for me while I sort out the exhaust on this thing.”

As the minutes passed, and Clint helped Beth with a number of tasks outside the house, he felt the tension slowly ebb away when no trouble seemed to arise.

 

When they returned to the house, they found Darcy painting Natasha’s nails a sparkly purple colour while Natasha gave her very detailed instructions on the best ways to incapacitate an opponent and all the ways to turn the contents of her handbag into weapons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint could see Beth gaping as Natasha told Darcy a story about exactly how she had taken down three men with only a nail file.

Darcy didn’t seem at all phased, though. In fact, she was listening with a little bit too much eager interest for Clint’s liking.

Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. Darcy could be scary enough without Natasha teaching her how to break every bone in someone’s body.

But how could he say something when Darcy was learning how to protect herself?  And he didn’t want to ruin Natasha’s enjoyment – he could see the tiniest of smiles on her face as she admired Darcy’s handiwork, mixed with a continuing surprise that someone was including her in this fun, mundane activity.

 

Clint’s anger towards the Red Room was an ever-present feeling, but sometimes he was reminded of just how much he hated what they had done to Natasha. He honestly didn’t want to change his partner, but every reminder of how devoid of love and fun and innocence her past life had been made his heart ache. His own childhood hadn’t been a picnic, but he did at least have some good memories to cling to.

Still, he knew Natasha wouldn’t want pity. She was almost scarily pragmatic about her life before he met her, and very detached when she spoke of it. That probably wasn’t at all healthy, but there was only so far anyone, even Clint, could push her.

(Seven different SHIELD therapists had quit when Natasha had gone for a psych evaluation on her defection to their side, and three of them were still undergoing treatment themselves).

 

In the end, all Clint could do was be Natasha’s friend, and show her that he judged her on what she tried to be now, rather than on all the mistakes in her past and the red in her ledger.

 

* * *

 

_June 2008_

 

“Nice bracelet,” Clint pointed at Darcy’s wrist, where the colourful beads stood out against her light grey shirt, “what do the letters mean?”

His niece grinned at him, “WWND - What Would Natasha Do?”

Clint blinked once, twice, “I feel like I should be offended,” he said slowly, “… and yet, I’m not.”

“Well, duh,” Darcy shrugged, “you’re like, totally cool, even better than my friend Tyler’s uncle, who takes them all to Disney for three weeks every year. But Natasha is …”

She trailed off, clearly unable to find the words to describe Clint’s partner.

He could relate. Natasha rendered him speechless often enough (and not always by constricting his windpipe during training).

 

“She’s sorry she couldn’t come and visit this time,” he told Darcy, “she’s on a mission. I hope I’m not a disappointing substitute.”

She rolled her eyes, “you let me shoot things and Nat makes me _run and spar_. I think I can cope for now.”

But a few seconds later his niece spoke again, a little uncertainly, “she’s alright, though, isn’t she?”

“Nat can take care of herself,” he reassured her.

Darcy shrugged slightly, “it’s just ... she seems sad sometimes, when she visits, and a bit confused, like she doesn’t understand me and mom.”

“Nat didn’t have the most conventional childhood.”

“I remember what you told me,” Darcy said softly, “I guess I just didn’t completely understand it until now. She can kill a man a hundred different ways or more but she doesn’t know what a pinky swear is, she hasn’t heard of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , and she’s never experienced what it’s like to have a mom who bakes you cookies just because she wants to make you smile.”

“She never had a home, not in the way you understand it.”

“But she can have one here now, right? Because she’s awesome and cool … and she promised to teach me how to hack into the Pentag– … the DMV.”

“Don’t let your mom hear that,” Clint warned her, because while he knew Natasha would teach her to hack almost anything, and while he thought that would be a pretty useful skill, he knew Beth would be peeved at the idea of Darcy possibly getting caught hacking the government before she even went to college.

 

“I can keep a secret,” she said, before pausing to consider the fact that Clint and Natasha were both super spies and amending her statement, “I can keep a secret from mom, at least.”

Clint gave her a rueful smile, “well just remember to give me some warning if you cave in to Beth – she’s got a set of lungs on her and I don’t fancy getting a lecture.”

Darcy shook her head, “I can’t believe that after everything you see at work, my mom still scares you.”

“Anyone with sense would be wary of Beth on the warpath,” Clint said seriously, “and while I’ve suffered more blows to the head than most, I _do_ still have a functioning brain.”

“I sometimes wonder,” Darcy replied with a teasing smile.

Clint just shrugged. So what if a few of his habits were a little odd. Vents were a good way to get around and you got used to the constricted space soon enough. And it was just common sense to booby-trap his apartment to within an inch of its life (so far the only ones who had successfully broken in were Natasha and Phil).

Everyone had their quirks.

 

“Come on then,” Darcy told him, “I’ve got an hour to kill before my mandatory run and I want to get in some practice with the crossbow.”

“Mandatory run?” Clint asked with a laugh.

“Don’t tease,” she muttered mutinously, “Nat said I had to do at least two miles every day and whenever I try and skip she just _knows_. I’m pretty sure she’s in cahoots with mom.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Clint replied, wondering for the thousandth time whether it had been wise of him to introduce Nat to Beth and when it would eventually inevitably come back to bite him in the ass.

“Yeah, well at least she managed to find me a super bra,” Darcy said, still looking annoyed, “otherwise this situation would be even worse.”

Clint just coughed. It wasn’t that he had a problem with discussing the difficulty of finding sportswear to fit a certain figure – he listened to Nat cursing mainstream clothing companies weekly – but he didn’t really want to talk about it with his teenage niece.

“Do you want me to get out the clay discs?” he changed the topic quickly, “I know it makes you feel better when you’re angry to shoot at something that smashes into little pieces.”

She brightened and grinned, “the glorious sound of chaos – let’s do it.”

Beth will probably kill him later, because the disc shards always got absolutely everywhere and were a nightmare to clean, but for now they could just have fun.

 

* * *

 

_August 2008_

 

It started in Budapest.

Or, to be truly honest, it started the moment they met.

A glance, a spark.

A kill order too, but neither of them held a grudge about that.

 

Clint could admit Natasha was better at keeping herself aloof. She’d never had a family or friends, at least not ones she could remember, and so she was used to not caring.

But Clint _did_ have a family. He had Darcy and Beth, and Phil too. He could conceal it well enough, but he couldn’t push away that part of him like Natasha could.

So they danced delicately around their feelings, learning to truly trust each other and all the while building themselves into SHIELD’s most efficient, deadly and in-synch pair.

 

Budapest was the first time he thought that maybe they could last.

When, after days of chaotic, dangerous activity and half a dozen near-death experiences, they lay quietly together in a dark, dusty room and he felt completely comfortable, more at ease than he ever had in his life.

Natasha fit against him perfectly. It felt right.

 

It was then that he realised he loved her, that she had made her way past his many defences to a part of his heart that had never been touched.

And it was after Budapest that she told him something he had suspected but never been totally certain about.

She wasn’t able to have children.

“I can’t give you a family,” she murmured to him as they lay entwined together on his threadbare couch after she had explained the Red Room’s twisted version of a graduation ceremony, “and I just don’t think I’m capable of a normal relationship,” she added a little bitterly.

He wondered if she was trying to drive him away, to push him before he left on his own.

And it hurt more than he wanted to admit that she still didn’t seem to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Nat,” he told her, seriously and firmly, “I did dream about that stuff once … but I don’t need it to be happy, and I don’t even think I’d necessarily want it anymore. I haven’t got kids and I probably never will, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t got a family.”

Clint never saw Natasha look unsure when they were on a mission, but now she seemed conflicted and agitated and he just wanted to reassure her.

“You’ve got a family, Nat,” he said softly, “me, Darcy, Beth, and Phil. It doesn’t matter how messed up or weird some of us are, or whether or not we’re related by blood. And it’s the best damn family in the whole world, because it’s _ours_.”

 

When his hand brushed across her face, he felt dampness there and realised she was crying.

But she was smiling too, and he knew it would be ok.

 

* * *

 

_November 2008_

 

Clint had nightmares fairly regularly, but he was good at seeing them coming, and he usually knew when it would be best to sleep alone, or search out a distraction to exhaust his mind and body to the point that he did not dream at all.

 

Natasha’s nightmares, however, were unpredictable in the extreme. Sometimes they followed a mission, other times they came during her time off. She might have one after a bad day, or even after a happy and relaxed one.

Those nights were the only times Clint ever saw her truly lose control.

She never cried, but she would thrash and scream and kick and lash out with the knives she always stored under her pillow. It was a good thing he was a light sleeper, able to pull himself into wakefulness quick enough to dodge any dangerous blows.

 

Every time it happened Natasha tried to leave, whether they were at his apartment or on a mission or elsewhere (she slept in the barn at the farm, despite his efforts to entice her inside, because she was determined never to startle Darcy and Beth). And every single time he held her while he tried to make her believe him when he said her demons wouldn’t scare him off.

“I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes,” he murmured to her time and time again, “after all, where would I be if Phil hadn’t taken a chance on me?”

On better nights she had a smart retort for him and a tiny smile that he sometimes managed to coax into a little laugh.

Other times she just couldn’t bring herself to speak, and so he talked and talked about everything and nothing until his voice was hoarse, she was sprawled across his lap in a semi-restful sleep and dawn had arrived.

 

Clint wholeheartedly wished that Natasha didn’t have to suffer in her sleep, and he knew he would undergo countless horrible tortures if it could grant her a lifetime of peaceful nights.

Still, he often felt like they were never closer than in the small hours of the mornings. Together with no mission to focus on, no debriefing to endure, no distractions … just learning each other’s nuances.

 

He’d known she would be important to him since the moment they met, had realised it when he couldn’t bring himself to kill her.

Their relationship had changed over time, from partners to friends to lovers, but there had always been a closeness, right from the beginning, a feeling that Natasha was going to be incredibly special to him.

And what existed between them now was a bond strengthened by the three years they had known each other, three years that seemed to have stretched out like a lifetime.

Clint remembered his life before Natasha, but it seemed almost impossible to imagine going forward without her there. She was a part of him now, just like Darcy, Phil and Beth were.

 

Very few things in a life like his were certain, but he knew Natasha was one of them.

And he was sure he’d never regret meeting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's POV.

_December 2008_

 

Darcy had a small family.

When Beth Lewis had gotten pregnant, her parents had told her to leave and not come back. Darcy had never known them, although she was aware that they had both passed away when she was about twelve years old. She had no aunts or uncles on her mother’s side and though there were a few distant relatives, there were none they were in contact with.

She had never met her father Barney Barton, which her mom insisted was a blessing. Darcy didn’t really feel the loss – it was weird sometimes, to have no dad, but her mom was amazing and she had her uncle Clint, who was kind of like a dad, but cooler.

 

That was all she had for blood family, since uncle Clint’s parents had died long ago, and hadn’t been particularly nice from the occasional stories she heard when she eavesdropped on her mom and uncle Clint.

She didn't mind, though. Her mom and Clint were enough, and there was Clint's boss Phil too, who sent her books every Christmas and Birthday on wide-ranging but always interesting topics (a collection of children's classics when she was younger, followed by biographies on Captain America, Bucky Barnes, the other Howling Commandos and Peggy Carter, together with various cook books, _1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die_ , six different texts on self-defence and the Lord of the Rings trilogy).

Now Darcy had Natasha as well, who was scarily awesome and made uncle Clint smile a lot (even when she was kicking him in the face when they sparred in the front yard).

 

Her friends at school sometimes said they felt sorry for her, at the farm so far out of town and with no one but her mom for company.

Darcy didn’t mind the farm, though. She was plenty sociable, but she liked her own company too. Besides, it was hard at times, when her friends shared all their hopes, dreams and deepest secrets, and Darcy had to keep quiet about so much. She was always vague about what her uncle did, and didn’t talk about Natasha at all just in case.

 

She was often relieved when the holidays came around, when she could stay mostly at home and not have to pretend.

At the farm no one thought it was weird that she knew so much about world current affairs (because she liked to play a game of trying to guess where Clint and Natasha were based on the news of tyrants being deposed, coups prevented, economies saved and so on, though of course sometimes it was the absence of disaster that suggested they may have been there). At home she didn’t have to lie about her uncle’s job (“he’s a sales rep for some boring company”) or stop herself from using one of the moves Natasha had taught her on idiot teenage boys who had started making crude comments as soon as it was clear that puberty had overdone it a bit when it came to her chest.

It wasn’t that she wanted to keep things from her friends, but it was the cost of who her family was. To keep Clint and Natasha safe, she had to say as little as possible. When she was younger it had been frustrating and confusing to stay quiet on the topic of her uncle, sometimes even making her angry, but she was used to it now. Besides, it was a relatively small price to pay for having her uncle and Natasha around.

She just hoped that one day, in the future, she could find friends who would be able to know the truth.

 

* * *

 

_January 2009_

 

Darcy slowed the car to a stop inside one of the parking bays and then turned to look at her Driver’s Ed instructor.

The man said nothing, only covered his mouth and looked queasy.

“I didn’t hit any of the cones,” she pointed out brightly.

Still, he only gazed at her, wide-eyed, before he scrambled out of the car and practically fled the scene.

He was her fourth instructor in three months. They never seemed to last beyond a few lessons and she was rapidly becoming infamous.

 

So maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to let Clint and Natasha give her a few pointers before she started learning properly.

But to be fair, she’d probably make an excellent getaway driver now.

“Oh well,” she murmured to herself, “let’s hope for fifth time lucky.”

 

Perhaps she should get some tips from her mom instead.

 

* * *

 

_April 2009_

 

Darcy had never seen Natasha show any indication of pain.

Even when she and Clint turned up battered and bruised, or when Darcy knew they had been involved in some dangerous mission, still Natasha never showed any outward signs that she was hurt.

And then one day, she did.

 

It was almost nothing, really.

The smallest of winces when Darcy hugged her in greeting on one of her visits with Clint to the Farm.

Darcy stepped back immediately, her eyes widening in panic, “what happened?”

But Natasha shook her head, and though she smiled in a way that suggested it was nothing, there was something in her eyes, a closed-off sort of coldness that made Darcy think things had gone very, very wrong on their mission.

 

Clint’s behaviour wasn’t any more comforting. He and Natasha had always been tactile in the time she had seen them together, but it was usually a subtle sort of thing, as was to be expected with a pair of spies. Now, though, he was … well the only word for it was hovering.

And, even more unusually, Natasha was actually allowing him to do so.

Darcy stayed mostly out of their way for the first few days of their visit. She wouldn’t normally contemplate such a thing – their visits were often short, so she usually tried to get as much time with them as possible – but she was worried and didn’t quite know what to do, or how to act.

 

Three days after their arrival at the farm, however, Darcy’s mother forced Clint to accompany her to town.

Darcy suspected that her mother and Natasha had conspired. Natasha had endured Clint’s fussing for days, but her patience was obviously wearing thin.

So, with bad grace, and following what appeared to be an argument with Natasha consisting entirely of raised eyebrows, Darcy and Natasha were left alone at the farm.

 

Darcy sat down opposite Natasha, who was curled up with a book and a steaming mug of hot chocolate Clint had pressed on her before he left, and for a few moments the silence hung heavy in the air.

Part of Darcy wanted to bring up the elephant in the room, but the other part wondered whether it was wise to poke into something that could very easily give her nightmares.

“You’re giving everything away with your expression, malen’kiy,” Natasha murmured, without even appearing to lift her gaze from her book.

Darcy flushed red but didn’t speak.

Natasha sighed softly. Then she put her book down, lifted her head and looked directly at Darcy, “it was a difficult mission,” she admitted, “but, whatever Clint’s behaviour might suggest, my injuries are not serious.”

Darcy could tell it was a bit of an evasion, although Natasha hid it well. She believed that the older woman would be fine physically, and was probably already capable of her usual acrobatic feats of fighting. However, there was still something a little … off. Natasha had been spooked and nothing would convince Darcy that she was already over it.

Perhaps she might have challenged her, and maybe the other woman would even have been a little more honest. But Darcy was only seventeen years old and she knew better than most people her age that there were some things she didn’t want to know, not yet.

So she allowed the conversation to move onto easier topics, chattered on about school and listened to Natasha give her the PG version of a mission to Paris she had undertaken a couple of months ago.

 

Still, when she and Natasha heard the sound of her mother’s car returning two hours later, Natasha suddenly broke the companionable silence by speaking quickly and urgently.

“Promise me something, Darcy.”

“Of course,” she replied automatically.

Natasha was clearly being very serious and Darcy wasn’t stupid – she knew well enough not to ignore Natasha’s advice.

“It may be nothing, and I hope you will never be in a position to need to remember this. But if you ever hear of the man they call the Winter Soldier then you must inform Clint or I immediately. And if at any point you believe yourself to be in his vicinity, then you must do all you can to remove yourself from the situation. Clint has told you about the safe-houses?”

Darcy nodded. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe her uncle had revealed the location of all the safe-houses he used, but he had made her and her mother memorise the location of half a dozen properties scattered across the United States, just in case.

“You get yourself to one of those houses,” Natasha’s voice was almost a whisper, but it was insistent nonetheless, “and you stay there until we come and find you.”

 

“Who is the Winter Soldier?”

She probably shouldn’t have asked. It was likely that she didn’t want to know about the sort of person who could make Natasha nervous. But Darcy couldn’t help her personality – she was curious, and she knew it was probably going to get her in trouble one day.

“No one you need ever think about, if Clint and I can help it,” Natasha replied severely.

“But I –” Darcy protested, but she was cut off by her mother’s voice calling for her to come and help with the groceries.

And Darcy knew, as Natasha turned her attention back to her book, that the Winter Soldier was going to remain a mystery for the foreseeable future.

 

* * *

 

 

_September 2009_

 

Natasha was extremely interested in Darcy’s college plans. She had never been involved in any kind of normal school system, and asked a lot of questions while they made their way through Darcy’s collection of high school and college movies.

She was also happy to look through brochures with Darcy and her mother, although her observations were less about the academic reputation and social life and more along the lines of “a large, complex campus is much better when making escape plans” or “all that open space circled by tall buildings is a sniper’s dream”.

 

Clint kept trying to stay out of any discussions.

He cited both his lack of formal education beyond his mid-teens and the fact that he wasn’t at all academic.

Natasha had actually laughed out loud and Darcy simply rolled her eyes.

Clint liked to play the idiot in front of most people, and he did it enough that it sometimes bled over when he was around those who knew what he was actually capable of.

He hadn’t had a traditional education, but he was a lot smarter than he liked to say he was, especially when it came to calculating the trajectories for his archery, and designing and building his own arrows. And Darcy had always thought he’d win an Oscar if he ever wanted to get into acting.

(he’d once been caught red handed by a mob boss and half a dozen of the man’s associates, in the middle of their compound and with two flash drives of sensitive information. It had taken Clint less than two minutes to convince all of them that he was meant to be there, and only another few minutes before they were all drinking together like old friends. Even Natasha had been visibly impressed).

 

What Darcy appreciated about the discussions she had with her mother, her uncle and Natasha was that they all offered her advice without trying to force any particular path on her.

Of course she had considered the idea of joining SHIELD. How could she not when she’d had informal training from two of its best agents, and when she was so aware of the sorts of threats they protected the world from? She was young, however, and she didn’t yet know if SHIELD was the best place for her.

After combing through brochure after brochure, what really appealed to her was Political Science course at Culver University. She knew that plenty of people looked down on her choice of subject, but she thought that was stupid, really, considering all the useful applications such a course could offer.

Besides, if her mother could grin and gush about it to all her friends, if Clint could tell her how proud he was, and if Natasha could hear her decision and offer a nod and a smile, then Darcy knew she wasn’t making a mistake.

 

* * *

 

_March 2010_

 

Darcy knew that Clint and Natasha worked for SHIELD, that they were the organisation’s most effective pair and veterans of difficult, dangerous missions.

She was aware that they were a terrifying duo, that they had been responsible for many deaths and had done plenty of things that were morally ambiguous at best.

She knew all that and she remembered it, especially when Clint demonstrated his archery by shooting the bullseye on twelve human-shaped targets in just a few seconds, or she saw grainy footage on the internet (which vanished just half an hour after its upload) of Natasha taking down nearly a dozen armed men on her own, or on days they visited with bruises still visible on their faces and calculated every exit as soon as they entered a room, or if she saw significant looks pass between them after certain news articles appeared.

And yet it was other memories that made their way to the forefront of Darcy’s mind more often than not.

 

Clint persisting with his plan of a BBQ despite the pouring rain, and him ending up shivering in front of the fire while her mom told him off for being an idiot, Darcy whipped up some soup in the kitchen and Natasha force-fed him three steaming mugs of a fragrant tea Darcy had never come across before (but which Natasha swore would stave off any potential cold).

Natasha testing her the night before her Spanish vocab test, and then later teaching her Russian curse words when her mom was out of earshot.

Clint demonstrating his circus skills by juggling six glasses at once, and then getting yelled at by her mom when his attempt to teach Darcy the same trick ended with three smashed glasses on the floor.

Natasha and her mom helping her pick her dress for a school dance, while Clint dusted off his make-up artist skills and gave her a ten minute lecture on how to make the most of eyeshadow.

Clint taking her camping and the two of them coming back covered in mud and bites but having loved every minute of their weekend away.

Natasha smiling softly when Darcy managed to make her some edible Russian tea biscuits.

Clint’s almost manic grin when they went to volunteer at the nearby dog shelter, and his pout when he had to leave without taking half the dogs away with him.

Natasha muttering away in Russian when she lost at Monopoly, despite Darcy’s attempt to console her by explaining that her mom was the unbeaten Monopoly champion at the farm.

Clint’s expression when he watched Natasha practice her ballet in the barn.

Natasha’s wide smile as she rode one of their two horses around a field at breakneck speed.

 

SHIELD Agents Hawkeye and Black Widow were many things, not all of them necessarily good.

But Clint and Natasha … to Darcy, they were family.

 

* * *

 

_June 2010_

 

The papers were full of the ‘incident’ at Culver University.

Half a dozen of Darcy’s friends rang her, asking if she was still going to attend, and when she confirmed she had no plans to switch to a different university, they all gasped and then rattled off figures from the news about property damage and danger.

Darcy only half-listened. She had a good scholarship for Culver, liked the campus and was interested in the course – she didn’t want to go anywhere else.

Besides, her mother had been on the phone with Clint about five minutes after the news broke, checking how much danger there really was going forward. Clint’s confirmation, seconded by Natasha (and also by Phil Coulson), that there was a minimal chance of any further incidents at Culver, was good enough for Beth Lewis, and for Darcy too.

 

After all, this one-off event aside, Culver seemed like a pretty run-of-the-mill place to study.

Darcy was sure that nothing she got up to in the next few years would be anywhere near as dangerous or exciting as the Hulk incident.

 

* * *

 

_September 2010_

 

It was just going to be her mom taking Darcy to her dorms, but both her uncle Clint and Natasha came to the farm on the day Darcy left to see her off. With them, they brought a large box filled with various gifts.

 

The pile of junk food was probably Clint’s work, while the small bottle of finest Russian vodka was clearly a contribution of Natasha’s.

There was a leaflet and voucher for a place near her campus that offered Krav Maga lessons, and a menu from Clint for a diner in the city that he swore made the best breakfasts for great prices (she’d have to wait and see whether this was one of his decent recommendations or not).

About a third of the box was taken up by a variety of locks and equipment she knew was meant to be used to booby-trap the single room she had somehow managed to snag (she had a feeling Natasha was probably the reason for this unexpected boon of not having to share a room, but the woman refused to confirm or deny it).

 

There was also a taser from Phil Coulson, and Natasha assured her it was top of the line and of the same make used by, in Clint’s words, their ‘Ninja Boss Man’.

“Rumour has it that he tased Tony Stark,” Clint whispered to her.

Natasha simply rolled her eyes, “you’ll probably never know for sure, but if it’s true then rest assured that Stark had it coming.”

 

The final offering was an envelope from Nick Fury himself. Darcy had never met the man (though she had heard many outlandish stories, all of which her uncle swore were true) but, as Clint gleefully told her, he had apparently had some choice words to say about her when she put the skills Natasha had taught her to use and hacked some of the less-secure SHIELD servers.

Inside the envelope was a SHIELD identity card with a telephone number on the back.

**_FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY_** was scribbled in bold black pen (and underlined) on a note attached to the card.

“We’re supposed to tell you that he means it about the emergency,” Clint added, “and that he’ll have you stationed in Antarctica if you misuse it. I tried to remind him that you didn’t work for him, so then he just said he’d have _me_ stationed there instead.”

Clint paused to pout, “please don’t get me sent to Antarctica. You know I have a phobia of penguins.”

Darcy did know, although how this phobia had developed was still a mystery to her. She vaguely remembered overhearing a story about an overdose of hallucinogenics, two gunshot wounds to the stomach and a trip to Seaworld, but she’d never managed to make sense of it.

 

Of course, she would never dream of using the identity card for anything other than an actual emergency. She loved a practical joke, but she was also extremely aware that there were moments when life had to be serious.

The wrath of Nick Fury didn’t scare her that much. But the idea of disappointing Clint and Natasha by misusing the identity card was enough of a deterrent to ensure she would only ever use it as directed.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t wind her uncle up a bit.

She let her expression slowly change into a smirk.

His eyes widened, “Darcy, no.”

“Darcy, yes,” she whispered happily.

After a moment of silence they both burst out laughing, while her mom and Natasha simply sighed at their ridiculousness.

 

And then it was time to say goodbye, to receive good luck wishes and promises of visits.

(Darcy had no doubt that if Natasha came to see her and found her security lacking in any way then there would be hell to pay).

 

In the midst of the chaotic packing of the car, Darcy took a moment to look around at the three people surrounding her.

Her mom, who had loved her from the moment she was born and never seemed to regret the way her life turned out because of her pregnancy.

Her uncle Clint, who was a sporadic but still constant presence in her life. Who brought her a keyring from almost everywhere he visited. Who, even at a young age, had stepped in to be a father figure in the place of his brother (a man who, as far as Darcy was concerned, deserved no recognition whatsoever from her).

And Natasha, a later but still vital addition to their group. A friend to Darcy and her mom, and the woman who made Clint’s smile just a little bit wider.

 

It wasn’t the most conventional family situation, but Darcy couldn’t help but love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malen’kiy = little one – this comes from Google translate and so may not be entirely accurate.
> 
> It may be that you have already guessed, but the April 2009 snippet occurs directly after Natasha’s Winter Soldier encounter, when he shot through Natasha to kill his target.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
